


That the nights were mainly made for saying things that you can't say tomorrow day

by giurochedadomani



Category: Trust (TV 2018)
Genre: M/M, Phone Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:55:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28012002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/giurochedadomani/pseuds/giurochedadomani
Summary: “Why would that comfort me?”“Because I’m calling you from the office, and I’m sitting at your chair, and if you were here I’d—” He can feel his heart on his throat. It’s exhilarating: “I’d already have you on my lap”.He can imagine Primo tipping his head back when he hears his surprised laugh, can almost see the long line of his neck. He wets his lower lip.“You fucking wish—”.“Oh, yes. I do ”, he cuts Primo again. It’s so satisfying being able to teach him a thing or two, give him a cup of his own medicine. “I’d have you on my lap and. I’d be kissing you. All filthy”. And then, for good measure: “You’d be loving it, of course”.—Primocannottake a compliment. Leonardo exploits that relentlessly. Having certain conversations when you don’t have to look at someone in the face is easier. They argue, but what else is new under the sun.
Relationships: Leonardo/Primo Nizzuto
Comments: 8
Kudos: 60





	That the nights were mainly made for saying things that you can't say tomorrow day

“That is the single most stupid idea that I’ve heard you suggest in my entire life”.

Leonardo sighs. He makes it loud and put upon, reclining himself in the chair. 

“And also the only one you’ve entertained in the whole day”, he replies, accommodating the telephone to his ear. 

_If Primo is going for the dramatics, so is he._

He observes how one of the light bulbs of the office lamp titillates, then the clock on the wall, making its way slowly but unmistakably past midnight. They’ve been going at it for an hour. By all means he should have hung up on Primo quite a few times by now. And yet again— 

“You’re. Relying on me being desperate to get me to listen to that”. 

—the day has not come in which he willingly lets him have the last word. 

“You’re not desperate. You’re _bored_ ”. Not the truth, but the closest to the truth he supposes Primo might accept. “I’m giving you a shortcut to come back here. Regroup. Come up with a new strategy”. 

He can almost hear Primo thinking. Weighing in the very carefully curated map of the plan in his brain what a two, three weeks delay might mean for the deal. If any of their competitors might feel as if they can take the chance to talk with the Romans themselves. Where the drugs would go in the end. 

“...It’s too much time wasted”, the other points, after a beat. “We’d almost be starting again from zero”. 

Leonardo rolls his eyes. 

“You know that’s not true”. He snorts. “Not from zero, at least we know what _not_ to try now. We can build from that”. He shrugs to himself. “I wouldn’t call that a waste”. 

It’s not the worst thing that can happen. Primo would benefit from looking at it from afar, see the issue in the grand scheme of things. And anyway it’s not as if they have to answer to Salvatore anymore. He’s not going to get mad at Primo if they don't instantly get results. He’s certainly not going to push him needlessly into a dangerous situation just because of it. Primo is reckless enough by himself. 

And then Primo says, slowly and with panache: “You can just tell me that you miss me”. 

Leonardo’s chest does a funny thing. 

“It’s the third time you've called me this week. I haven’t had _time_ to miss you”. 

“— _Very_ desperate to get me back”, Primo continues, as if he hasn’t spoken. He can practically taste his smirk. “Does it worry you that much, what I might be doing between meeting and meeting? The looks I might be getting?” 

_The absolute affront_. 

“I’d be more worried if you told me you aren’t getting any looks. Have you seen yourself in a mirror? I’m not sure there’s people out there who can resist _not_ looking”, he doesn’t know why he says that, would probably swallow his tongue if he tried to do it to Primo’s face, but there’s something about Primo’s stunned silence in response to that that fills him with excitement, and also a lot of vindictive joy. He imagines Primo nervously passing a hand through his hair, and decides not to let him enough time to get his bearings back. “I can imagine it, you strutting downtown looking so sharp, so tempting”, he continues, as if in a passing observation. “Have you brought the blue suit over there?”, he asks, trying not to smile, lest it ruin his very innocent tone.

“...The blue suit?” 

“The one you brought to the office’s inauguration last month”, he specifies. Blue as the sky, very modern, _very_ snug on his ass. It’s seared on Leonardo’s memory. “It does look good on you. Brings out your eyes”. Primo makes a non committal sound. If this is it, if Leonardo has truly reduced him and his bratty answers to that he’s— not sure what he’s going to do. Surely something. “Perhaps it’s you the one who misses me”, Leonardo continues, then. Hearing Primo laughing a little, sounding a tad bit nervous, sure is something. He fills it under the long list of things he is _not_ reflecting on, right next to the rush of affection he feels when he hears it. “You’re missing a lot of things, yes”, he continues, ignoring him as the other had earlier attempted to do. And then his heart misses a beat, and starts beating wildly: “I can tell you what you’d be doing if you were here, if it serves you for comfort”. 

The words are out of Leonardo’s mouth before he can really reflect on them. When they register in his brain, he has already said then, so what’s the point in stopping? It’s stupid, and reckless, and alltoguether a bad idea to just. Spring this type of conversation with your boss. He decidedly doesn’t question why he’s doing it with Primo, as with many other ideas they’ve put into motion in their months of partnership. It’s as if reining the other in on the usual has passed onto him part of his impetuousness. 

“Why would that comfort me?”

“Because I’m calling you from the office, and I’m sitting at your chair, and if you were here I’d—” He can feel his heart on his throat. It’s exhilarating: “I’d already have you on my lap”.

He can imagine Primo tipping his head back when he hears his surprised laugh, can almost see the long line of his neck. He wets his lower lip.

“You fucking wish—”.

“Oh, yes. I _do_ ”, he cuts Primo again. It’s _so_ satisfying being able to teach him a thing or two, give him a cup of his own medicine. “I’d have you on my lap and. I’d be kissing you. All filthy”. And then, for good measure: “You’d be loving it, of course”. 

“You’re flattering yourself. _Definitely_ ”, Primo replies, because he’s first and foremost an asshole. He does it way too quickly, which Leonardo, for some reason, takes as a personal victory. He’d be satisfied to leave it like that, return to a less slippery slope conversation, except that that’s when Primo decides to add: “Besides, if anything _I’d_ have you exactly as I want to. Under me, soft and pliant”. 

That’s not true, that’s not true _at all_ , it’s so untrue Leonardo has to keep himself from laughing. If anyone’s _soft and pliant_ during sex it’s not him. Primo’s all talk and no bite when the moment comes. But yet again, there’s something about the way Primo says _soft_ that does wonders to every kind of reserve he might have had about how he looks as opposed to Primo, so lean, with legs for days. That’s why he settles for a placating: “Anyway, you’d be out of your clothes soon enough”. 

“...Even if it’s the blue suit? I thought you liked how it looked on me?”

_Primo has no business sounding that innocent_.

Leonardo tips his head back, lets it rest against the chair. He looks at the ceiling, not because it’s really going to help him at any rate to ignore the wave of arousal going down his back, settling on his lower belly, but because he really wants to focus. If Primo is not going to change tracks in the conversation, he definitely is _not_. 

“Hard to bend you over the table with it on”, he points out, very happy to see that his tone keeps being levelled. “Would you like that? Seems sturdy enough”. 

“The table”, Primo repeats, disbelieving, as if looking for confirmation. 

Leonardo’s nerves are alight, which is the minimum he supposes he could expect from telling your boss about. This. His collar feels a bit tight, so he undoes it a bit. He tips his pelvis a little forward, opens a bit his legs, keeps a hand on his leg, slowly going up to his mid-thigh, then down again. 

“Oh, _you_ are sturdy enough. I know you can take me”. 

He hears Primo’s “...mmh?” and then a tell-tale rustling and he feels his throat dry. His face splits in a grin. “Are you touching yourself?” Primo takes air. Leonardo cuts in again before he can find a way to talk it back: “Because you can. I want you to. I want to hear you. I’ve been thinking about it all day”. 

Not really, because someone has to keep a levelled enough head to keep things working in Gioia Tauro, but he _knows_ Primo, knows how much he likes to be the centre of attention whether he’s present or not, has seen the face he makes when he tells him that he’s been thinking about him. Besides, even if he has not thought about it _all day_ , now it’s everything that occupies his mind. 

“About what, exactly, have you been thinking about”, prompts Primo, sounding breathless, and also fatidical, as if he can’t really believe that they’re talking about this, which, honestly, is a sentiment that Leonardo feels in his very soul. 

His hand on his leg goes up, and up, and he’s palming himself through his trousers. 

“I’d keep your arms behind your back, fuck you until you couldn’t stand up”, he suggests, tone a little lower. “Or maybe…”, he feels a little air cooling the sweat at his neck, “...against the window, with your arms over the ledge. Overlooking the bay. Letting the whole city hear the sounds you do for me”. Primo’s little ‘nnnhg’ has him fumbling with his trousers’ buttons to take himself in hand. “Then again, perhaps not. I like them when you do them just for me”. 

“Yes— _Fuck_ —”. 

If Leonardo closes his eyes, he can almost see it, the long expanse of Primo’s back drenched in sweat, his hands leaving red marks on the other’s hips, the little noises that he makes every time he buries himself in him. “Is that a yes? Would you like that?” 

“Yes, I— _Yes_ , I’d want—”.

It gives Leonardo such a rush of power, to make such a mess out of Primo. He feels _drunk_ on it. 

“I’d have you on the sofa, better, I think”, the words fall unbidden from his lips, and he’s got no idea how he manages to be any kind of coherent. “Spread under me, legs around my hips”. He groans, rhythm uncoordinated. “I’d be kissing your neck, you know? I’d leave marks. Let everyone who looks at you know exactly with whom do you belong”. 

And Primo’s coming, he knows that sound, can imagine him absolutely lost in it, flushed down to his chest, head tipped back, hair a mess, _and so,_ _so fucking beautiful—_ that he’s overcome by his orgasm too, swallowed down by the wave of pleasure. 

“...That’s what I’d do, if you were here”, Leonardo cannot help but rubbing, overlooking the office’s sofa, when he recuperates his higher brain functions. He tries to calm his breathing to something more manageable, his body still thrumming, his suit an absolute mess. 

“But I’m not”, Primo points out, irritated, and sounding so breathless. It makes Leonardo proud. It also makes him giggle. 

“You’ll think about something”, he replies, sincerely. “You always come up with great ideas”. 

Primo _clearly_ tries to sound mocking and _clearly_ misses by a mile when he asks: “You think so?”

It makes Leonardo feel— not proprietary, exactly, nor defensive. Protective, perhaps? 

“Well, _insane_ , sometimes, but always great, yes”, he insists. It’s not as if they have to answer to Salvatore anymore. He’s not going to dismiss Primo just to motivate him. Especially not when it’s so obvious that that type of response make him do so much stupid shit. “See you on Wednesday?” 

“Make it the weekend”, Primo counters, after a moment. “Let me try...”, and then he’s lost in thought. Either he’s not fully convinced with the idea, or he’s still out of it, but he doesn’t share it with Leonardo. What he says is: “I’m taking you up on your word. On the stuff you’ve said. Wouldn’t mind putting your ideas into practise when I’m there”. 

“That, we’ll see”, Leonardo says, grinning.

**Author's Note:**

> [This is my tumblr](https://giurochedadomani.tumblr.com/), come say hi!


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